He felt that he had been able to help in providing food for the friendly Indian tribe.
On his way home Mewanee stopped to call to the squirrels as they ran to and fro on the river’s edge.
He talked to them as he threw them acorns which he found in his quiver bag. He stopped to listen to the birds as they sang to him from their nests in the trees.
Homeward he paddled. It was getting late, but Mewanee was not afraid.
It was twilight when Mewanee pulled his canoe up on the river bank and walked toward his wigwam.
He was very happy indeed, that he had the three fine geese which he carried over his shoulder.
Mewanee’s mother was waiting for him, and baby brother smiled a welcome.
Little brother was still in his linden cradle.
I am sure an American child would feel quite unhappy if he were bound in a cradle so much of the time, but Indian babies became quite accustomed to it. They must learn to endure pain and suffering. That was their first lesson.
As soon as baby brother was old enough he would be allowed to run about and care for himself.